


Loose Lips Sink Ships All The Damn Time (Not This Time)

by MadQueenCersei



Category: Lovely Little Losers, Nothing Much to Do
Genre: Canon Character of Color, F/F, First Kiss, Jaquie is an angel, Meg is figuring it out as she goes, Meg puts herself first, Meg-Centric, Not an easy fix for canon, Open but good ending, everyone is vaguely mentioned at some point, feelings are hard, mentions of waning tipsiness, post-Farewell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-26
Updated: 2015-12-26
Packaged: 2018-05-09 11:28:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5538176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadQueenCersei/pseuds/MadQueenCersei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Meg sucks at putting her real feelings out there, but tonight, Jaquie lets her say exactly what's on her mind. For once, with Boyet's flat walls around her and Jaquie listening, she can breathe easy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Loose Lips Sink Ships All The Damn Time (Not This Time)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [johnlaurns](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=johnlaurns).



> I wrote this for the lovely little NMTD/LLL Secret Santa exchange on Tumblr. This is my first time writing for this fandom, and my first time writing Meg's voice, and it's 1 am, so I'm a little nervous, but I'm biting the bullet and publishing this anyway. Let me know what you think :)

It’s three in the morning when Meg turns on the light in the kitchen. She fumbles a bit with the switch, still getting used to maneuvering around Vegan Fred’s – Boyet, now, she reminds herself – flat. She still doesn’t think of it as hers, but the walls feel familiar, welcoming, accepting somehow. It’s a nice change from some of the people who have claimed to be her friends.

Not that they’re to blame for their absence. Maybe Meg’s placating herself, but she’s always advocated for other people’s happiness. Balth at least seems happy in his relationship with Pedro, or Peter, whatever he’s going by these days. Margaret’s urge to let Donaldson die slowly and painfully has pretty much vanished. 

And then with Ben’s anxiety about – well, about everything – at least it’s calmed down for the moment. He’s even texting her first, on occasion, which she should be happier about than she is. Bea and Hero send her texts about canceling their Chanukah party and going to chemo with Leo, and she winces and texts back that she’s there if they need her.

They don’t need her, though, Bea especially. She has Ben and Hero, as always. So Meg, for the first time, feels justified in breaking away from the girl she’d been. That girl had held onto Auckland for too long. Maybe it’s not wrong to get a little distance. 

(And, as Boyet had pointed out to her one night, rather unhelpfully, when they were on their fifth glasses of boxed wine, “For people who call you their best friends, they kind of treat you like shit, don’t they?” 

Meg had chugged the whole glass, slammed it down on the counter, and tugged the hair tie sitting on her wrist so hard that it snapped. For once, her temper had deflated, and the apartment was dead silent for the rest of the night.)

But the point is, she’s leaving her jealousy behind. She gets to be the new Meg, and somehow, this Meg is less worried about flirting with just boys and more concerned with being. 

During tonight’s party, she’s gotten numbers from all three of Boyet’s bandmates, grinded a little in between Freddie and Kit for kicks (who cares? She was drunk!), and even gone shot for shot with Jaquie. God, the girl can hold her liquor and still look like a queen while doing it. Aesthetically. Not in the sense of liking her sexually and oh, God, why has she been an idiot all night?

Water. Right. That’s the objective. Tranquility, calmness, sobering up. Water.

“Meg?”

It takes a herculean effort not to jump at Jaquie’s voice behind her. Meg squares her shoulders for a second, then drops the pretense and turns around to face the other girl, who’d been the last one here and just hanging out in the den. 

“Hey,” she says softly. “Did I wake you up? I know the couch isn’t the comfiest – Bea used to complain about it all the time and…”

“No, it’s totally fine. I was planning on pulling an all-nighter anyway,” Jaquie says offhandedly, her usual sarcasm gone. “You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Meg says gruffly. 

She reaches for her wrist to grab a hair tie, but it’s bare. Letting out a low groan of frustration, and ignoring Jaquie’s look of concern-masked-by-sarcasm, she runs around the island and opens the cupboard on the other side, bringing down a couple of glasses. 

“I think we both had way too much to drink tonight,” she says a little too brightly, “so I’m getting myself some water. Want some?”

“Sure,” comes the reply. Ever the perfect hostess, Meg grabs the faucet and, with a flick of her wrist, lets the water run. She watches the stream as it drips into the first cup, then the second, and is about to turn the tap off when she feels rough, callused fingers brush against her own. Meg feels her breath catch in her chest and coughs, trying to cover it up.

“What – what are you doing?” she breathes, turning to face Jaquie, whose kind but impatient looks are now being used on Meg herself. Damn her.

Jaquie bites her lip, then looks at Meg through half-lidded eyes. Maybe she’s drunk, maybe she’s tired – Meg doesn’t want to name it. “You’ve been off ever since we played Spin the Bottle,” she says. 

Meg’s heart stops. Immediately. 

But Jaquie continues in her honest way: “Look, I get it. You’re straight and it got weird. What’s one drunken kiss between friends?” 

And oh, there is so much Meg could say to that. Because it’s everything, isn’t it? She was so confident before tonight, and now, standing in this kitchen, she wants a blanket and a reassurance that she can go back to being the straight girl. But it doesn’t feel right, somehow. In her own head, there’s been girls at the magazine and there was Bea and maybe, now there’s Jaquie. 

Without thinking, she laces her fingers through Jaquie’s, leaning their hands against the countertop, and sighs.

Jaquie’s eyes immediately narrow. “Meg. You don’t have to say anything.”

Meg squeezes Jaquie’s hand out of reflex, feeling her blood pumping in her ears. “I…” Meg starts. Jaquie looks at her, concerned but not expectant. There’s no Bea breathing down Meg’s neck; she can take her time. She moves in, closer and closer, edging up on her tip-toes, until her lips are barely apart from Jaquie’s. She breathes out, and Jaquie shivers, just a little.

“I want to be happy,” Meg tries again. “It’s been a really rocky few months, and everything’s turning upside down…”

“I get it.” Jaquie starts to move away, and that’s not supposed to happen. Frustrated with how this is going, and unsure of everything except the fact that she needs Jaquie to see the truth, Meg closes the gap between them, pressing her lips lightly against Jaquie’s. 

But Jaquie doesn’t respond. Instead, she looks down at Meg with wide eyes, like Meg had suddenly grown two heads. Meg’s heart hammers as she rips her hand out of Jaquie’s and takes two steps back.

“I’ll – I’ll just be going then,” Meg says, trying to back out.

“No way,” Jaquie says, finally speaking up. “I don’t want you to pity me or anything. If you’re just being nice…”

“I’m not nice, Jaq.” The words burst out of her from somewhere deep and vile. “I think this whole mess has proved that. I tried so hard to make my friends happy, but I don’t do pity and I don’t do nice.” Meg’s voice catches, cracks a little, as the last words leave her, but she continues, trying to keep her face calm. “I guess…I’ve got a lot of work to do, figuring myself out. I’m trying to find what makes me happy without worrying about what people from home might think.”

The corner of Jaquie’s mouth turns down a little as she bites it. “So, where does this fit in?”

That’s easy. Maybe it’s because of the alcohol, or maybe it’s because someone’s finally asking her what she really thinks, but Meg laughs, real and true. Jaquie makes her laugh, shows her fun movies, gets Faustus tickets for friends, edits videos, and she does it with a fake-scowl and a love that could set Wellington on fire. She is beautiful and tough and kind in a world that doesn’t reward it and that is everything Meg has been looking for. 

“I don’t need anyone to complete me,” she says, smiling yet shaky, “but if I could get to know you, get to make you feel happy…I’d really like that.” Meg knows Jaquie’s sarcastic look, her maternal look, her happy look, her worried look, but the look that now crosses her face is something entirely new. It’s frightening.

“Ignore me,” Meg says. “This never happened, and you’re a great friend, and I’m going to go to bed and wake up tomorrow be young and free and good old straight Meg and…” 

She trails off as Jaquie steps forward and rests their foreheads together. They stand like that for a small, insignificant second, and then suddenly Jaquie’s lips are on Meg’s, or Meg’s on Jaquie’s, and it’s hot and wanting and nothing like Meg had imagined. The smoky taste of Jaquie’s mouth, the softness of her lips, and the sureness of her touch are the perfect combination. Meg gasps, and Jaquie smirks – no, grins – into the kiss. 

But the tables turn when Meg breaks away for a hot second to breathe, and Jaquie whimpers. Her eyes are black, and maybe it’s the dim kitchen light, but Meg feels truly wanted. 

“So,” she whispers, grinning, a little mirth returning to her.

“So,” Jaquie whispers back, and it sounds like a start.

Meg leans in again to kiss her lightly, letting it linger now. Maybe it’s okay to take her time, to let herself enjoy this. She laces her fingers through Jaquie’s again.

Meg gives Jaquie a questioning look and pulls a little, and Jaquie nods. Wordlessly, they walk to Bea’s old couch, Jaquie’s temporary couch. They stand at the edge, lingering.

“So I was going to finish that sentence,” Meg says, lightly huffing. “Tomorrow, when we’re 100% sober and not 90% sober, I’m going to ask you to get coffee with me. I’m going to be a total mess, but… I hope you say yes.”

Jaquie’s eyes crinkle at the edges, and Meg knows she’s heard everything behind it. This friend of hers is really something. “I will." Jaquie punctuates the declaration with a light kiss on Meg’s jaw. “Promise.” 

Her hand extends back, and Meg gladly takes it, letting herself be curled up against Jaquie’s chest as they lie down on the couch together. Despite the weight of Jaquie’s hand against her hip, Meg feels lighter than she has in months.

(This doesn’t solve anything. Jaquie won’t complete her – no one can. But patience tonight and coffee tomorrow and Boyet's encouraging thumbs-up when she returns from coffee are a better start than she’s ever hoped for before.)


End file.
